Thunderstorm
by Ravenclaw-Amongst-The-Serpents
Summary: To Frank, Molly Weasley was three things: confident, fierce and somebody who inexplicably hated his guts. At least, that's what he thought... Frank Longbottom II/Molly Weasley II. Next Gen. Drabble.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters, only Frank and Molly's personalities. **

* * *

The first clap of thunder woke him up.

Rubbing his eyes, Frank rolled over in bed and stared uncomprehendingly at the clock on his bedside table. It was one of the more annoying muggle inventions he owned, he decided. It was impossible to read with tired eyes, it never wanted to turn off and it made the most godforsaken ringing noise ever. But his father had given it to him as a child ("This will help you keep track of time, I hope. I was always running out of time as a child, and I don't want that to happen to you, my boy," his father had said.) so he kept it.

Now, glaring at it with half-closed eyes, he wasn't sure why, if it woke him up at half past two in the morning. He hadn't even set an alarm.

That's when the second clap struck.

Startled, Frank rolled off of his bed, getting tangled in his sheets and bringing them down with him. "Bloody hell," he grumbled, sluggishly disentangling himself. He stood up and stretched, not even flinching as a third clap quickly joined the second.

Now that he was up and vaguely awake, he felt like a glass of water. Not even bothering to pick up his sheets, he walked out of his room and down the passage on his way to the kitchen. He didn't get very far though. He was just more than halfway down the passage when he heard it- a very small whimpering sound. He froze, listening intently. And there it was again, coming from the spare bedroom. Tiptoeing to the almost-closed door, he pressed his ear against it. Sure enough, he heard the noise again.

"Molly?" He whispered.

Silence. Then, "Frank?"

"No, it's Father Christmas. Of course it's me." Taking her silence as permission for him to enter, he did, quietly opening and closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, ignoring his comment. Her eyes were wide, and she was sitting on top of her sheets, clutching her legs to her chest like she usually did when she felt insecure.

It was the first holiday of his sixth year- her seventh- and he had decided that because of this new law (and the fact that they were technically engaged), they should spend more time together. So he had invited her to stay with his family for the holiday, asking her father directly, basically giving her no choice but to agree. Luckily his house had a spare bedroom, which his parents had no problem letting Molly stay in.

"I came to check on you," he said, making his way to the foot of her bed.

"Oh. Well, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine. So thank you for visiting, and please close the door on your way out," she said swiftly, pointing at the door.

Before Frank could reply, the room was illuminated by a flash of lightning and emphasised by a stronger, louder roar of thunder. Molly jumped and grabbed the nearest pillow, clutching it to herself for reassurance.

Frank moved around the side of the bed and sat in front of her, ignoring the fact that she immediately tensed up. "Scared of thunder?" Reluctantly, she nodded.

Another clap, and the next second Frank found Molly in his arms. He wasn't quite sure what had happened- perhaps the shock she received from the loud noise made her momentarily forget how much she despised him?- but he wasn't going to waste the opportunity. She never let him touch her, and now was the perfect chance to show her that it wasn't too bad.

He pulled her closer, tightening his grip on her slightly and rubbing circles on her back reassuringly. She was shaking badly- this surprised him, as his Molly wasn't afraid of anything. Every Weasley had their weakness, he guessed. This was hers.

"It's going to be alright," he said softly. He wasn't even sure she could hear him with her face buried in his chest, but he figured that a reassuring voice was better than silence.

Another crack echoed through the room, and the pair was briefly illuminated again. "It's loud, Frank," she whimpered, clutching at his shirt. He didn't even mind that she pinched him (okay, maybe a little. But what was a little pain compared to a possible bonding moment?).

"I know. But that's all it is- a loud noise. It can't hurt you. I promise," he said, burying his face in her hair.

She nodded against him and let go, pulling away from him a little. "Thank you."

He smiled. "Anytime, Molly. Now, let's get you back to bed."

She didn't protest when he picked her up (she was scarily light), and she didn't protest when he tucked her back into bed. Most surprisingly though, she didn't protest when he kissed her forehead lightly. "Goodnight, Molly," he said, turning around and making his way back to the door.

"Frank?" He stopped moving and turned around, looking at her curiously. She looked down, as if thinking carefully, before making eye contact with him again. "Don't go."

It was more of a question than a statement, and it was very nervous-sounding. Smiling kindly, Frank nodded and made his way back to the bed. Relieved, Molly smiled back and shifted up a little to make space for him, pulling the duvet open for him. He hesitated a bit before climbing in next to her.

Immediately she was by his side, head on his arm and hand on his chest. Neither of them noticed the next crack of thunder.

"You know," she began, interrupted by a yawn. She waited for it to pass before continuing, "You're actually pretty Hufflepuff-y for a proud Gryffindor."

He chuckled softly. "Told you so. Now sleep. Goodnight, Molly."

"Goodnight Frank."

A few minutes later, and he could hear by her slow breathing that Molly was asleep. The storm stopped shortly after that. Frank lay awake, staring at the ceiling and smiling to himself. It seemed that his luck was finally changing. For all he knew, they would be back to their usual arguing selves tomorrow, but for now, he was just happy holding the girl he loved.


End file.
